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(From “Subjects for Pictures”)
DOES she watch him, fondly watch him, | |
| Does the maiden watch in vain? | |
| Do her dark eyes strain to catch him | |
| Riding o’er the moonlit plain, | |
| Stately, beautiful, and tall? | 5 |
| Those long eyelashes are gleaming | |
| With the tears she will not shed; | |
| Still her patient hope is dreaming | |
| That it is his courser’s tread, | |
| If an olive leaf but fall. | 10 |
| Woe for thee, my poor Zorayda, | |
| By the fountain’s side; | |
| Better, than this weary watching, | |
| Better thou hadst died. | |
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| Scarlet is the turban folded | 15 |
| Round the long black plaits of hair; | |
| And the pliant gold is moulded | |
| Round her arms that are as fair | |
| As the moonlight which they meet. | |
| Little of their former splendour | 20 |
| Lingereth in her large dark eyes; | |
| Ever sorrow maketh tender, | |
| And the heart’s deep passion lies | |
| In their look so sad and sweet. | |
| Woe for thee, my poor Zorayda, | 25 |
| By the fountain’s side; | |
| Better, than this weary watching, | |
| Better thou hadst died. | |
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| Once the buds of the pomegranate | |
| Paled beside her cheek’s warm dye, | 30 |
| Now ’tis like the last sad planet | |
| Waning in the morning sky— | |
| She has wept away its red. | |
| Can this be the Zegri maiden, | |
| Whom Granada named its flower, | 35 |
| Drooping like a rose rain-laden?— | |
| Heavy must have been the shower, | |
| Bowing down its fragrant head. | |
| Woe for thee, my poor Zorayda, | |
| By the fountain’s side; | 40 |
| Better, than this weary watching, | |
| Better thou hadst died. | |
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| To the north her fancies wander, | |
| There he dwells, her Spanish knight; | |
| ’Tis a dreadful thing to ponder, | 45 |
| Whether true love heard aright. | |
| Did he say those gentle things | |
| Over which fond memories linger, | |
| And with which she cannot part? | |
| Still his ring is on her finger, | 50 |
| Still his name is in her heart— | |
| All around his image brings. | |
| Woe for thee, my poor Zorayda, | |
| By the fountain’s side; | |
| Better, than this weary watching, | 55 |
| Better thou hadst died. | |
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| Can the fond heart be forsaken | |
| By the one who sought that heart? | |
| Can there be who will awaken | |
| All of life’s diviner part, | 60 |
| For some vanity’s cold reign. | |
| Heavy is the lot of woman— | |
| Heavy is her loving lot— | |
| If it thus must share in common | |
| Love with those who know it not— | 65 |
| With the careless and the vain. | |
| Woe for thee, my poor Zorayda, | |
| By the fountain’s side; | |
| Better, than this weary watching, | |
| Better thou hadst died. | 70 |
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| Faithless Christian!—ere the blossom, | |
| Hanging on the myrtle bough, | |
| Float on the clear fountain’s bosom, | |
| She who listened to thy vow— | |
| She will watch for thee no more! | 75 |
| ’Tis a tale of frequent sorrow | |
| Love seems fated to renew; | |
| It will be again to-morrow | |
| Just as bitter and as true, | |
| As it aye has been of yore. | 80 |
| Woe to thee, my poor Zorayda, | |
| By the fountain’s wave; | |
| But the shade of rest is round thee— | |
| And it is the grave! | |
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